The Legend of the Seeker
by The Writer Who Lived
Summary: Takes place after "Elixir". Follow Richard, Kahlan, Zedd and a large cast as they band together to defeat Darken Rahl before time runs out. Become witness to the Legend of the Seeker.
1. The Woods

In the depths of the woods, a steadfast wind slipped lazily between the green and yellow leaves, making them dance mysteriously like marionettes on the end of an invisible puppet-masters string. In the darkness of the ancient oaks and pines, the figure wandered aimlessly from tree to tree, on occasion placing a hand upon the bark, letting its fingers lightly trace the contours and crevices of nature. Manipulating the leaves was one thing that the figure enjoyed to do in order to ease its mind into a perpetual coma-like state. It was relaxing.

The figure was walking with no particular destination in mind. Twigs snapped underfoot, as it passed along the narrow ledge of a two-hundred-foot ravine. Loose rock and twigs were cast over the edge, as the figure slipped by, disappearing into the darkness. Vague memories ran rampant through its mind, occasionally intersecting with other memories and thoughts, though never offering a solution to the figure's problem. Eventually, after having walked for nearly an hour, the figure came to a fork in the path of which it was following. Completely lost in its thoughts, the figure sat down on a rock that was covered with green moss, and heaved a heavy sigh.

A shadow fluttered over the ground in front of the figures feet. The figure looked up at the sky quickly, scanning the twilight for the source of the shadow. There were only the stars, which shone brightly with their eternal wisdom. Whatever the shadow had been was nowhere to be seen. _What was it? A bird? No, impossible; much too small. Was something following them? No, also impossible. They were not being followed, he had seen to that personally. _The figure was so ensnared in its own thoughts, that it almost didn't notice the abrupt change in the wind's direction.

The figure looked around curiously, as a tornado of leaves, twigs, and other forest debris surrounded it, pulling at its sleeves and hair. The figure got up off the rock, and began walking through the swirling wind. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the wind vanished, leaving the woods bathed in an eerie silence. However, a light breeze continued to blow in the opposite direction that it had been a moment earlier.

The figure combed leaves and twigs out of its long hair with bony fingers. It uttered a few mumbled words, attempting to reverse the direction of the wind, but to no avail. It continued to blow persistently towards the East Mountains.

The Figure never put much faith in signs, but such were the times that a change of wind direction that it could not reverse, required further investigation. Then, there was a snap from somewhere in the dark, and the figure whipped around on the defensive, prepared for an attack. The attack, however, never came. Something emerged onto the path, that was just a little bit smaller than the rock the figure had been sitting on. As it passed under a beam of moonlight, the figure let out a sigh of relief.

"Hello, cat", the figure said. The cat mewed in response. The figure paused for a moment. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him". The cat mewed again. "No," the figure replied. "For now, we will bide our time. I must find out the meaning of this wind".

The figure set off again down the path, slapping at a hovering fly, the cat following closely at its heels. Red eyes watched them closely from a nearby clump of bushes. The eyes followed the two shapes until the creature which they belonged to, decided that the time was right to kill. It scuttled forward in a crab-like motion with terrible speed, yellow eyes possessed with blood lust, jaw unhinged and teeth glinting in the moonlight. It lunged and its teeth caught a hold on the cat's neck. Blood splattered across the forest floor as the cat yowled in pain.

The figure whirled around, and in a second it had its finger jammed up under the creature's throat. Crystal blue eyes clashed with terrified yellow. The creature relinquished its grip on the cat's neck, and whimpered in pain, as the figure drove its finger further into the beast's neck.

"You were sent to kill us?" the figure asked, in a menacing tone. The creature made several pained grunting noises.

"How many more of you are out hunting us?" The creature grunted several times again.

"Bags!" the figure swore. After a long pause, he finally said, "If you wish to continue living for now, I have a job for you". The creature whimpered. "There is a camp not to far from here. There will be a man and a woman sleeping. I want you to guard them for the rest of the night, unless you want me to kill you right here." The creature nodded in response. "In the morning, the man will no doubt kill you. You are to let him, do you understand?"

The creature struggled to get free, but the figure jammed his finger further into its throat until it drew blood. _"Do you understand?" _the figure repeated. The creature nodded fervently. _"Then leave", _the figure demanded and released its hold on the creatures throat. The beast scuttled a few feet down the path, and then stretched its leathery wings and took off to the skies, towards the camp.

"Bags", the figure said, as it knelt down to examine the cat. There was a large gash along its neck, which was slowly seeping along the pathway. The figure sighed, and ran its hands slowly over the dying cat. Sparks jetted out of its fingers and converged around the cat's wound, which began to mend itself; all the while the figure said nothing. When the wound was healed, the figure gazed at the cat. The cat mewed in what the figure could only assume was extreme gratitude.

"Cat," the figure said. "I have a job for you as well. I need you to go back to the Bone woman's house. I require a very specific bone, and there is no time for me to go. Do this for me, and I will let you retire in front of the fire with all of the mice you can eat".

The cat mewed one last time, and disappeared into the undergrowth.

The figure set off once again. The attack had disturbed him greatly. Their enemies were much closer than he had anticipated. The wind changed directions again, this time blowing strongly towards the north. The figure heard its name, borne upon the winds breath.

… _Zedd…_

_What's this? _Zedd wondered. He tried to change the direction of the wind once more, but once again, the wind remained blowing steadily north. "Bags!" Zedd swore again. He did not like being confused. Plus the attack had left him quite hungry.

… _Zedd…_

"Who are you?" Zedd asked, his words carried away on a large gust of wind. Eventually, he received an answer to his query.

… _Shota… Shota… Shota… Shota… Shota… _the wind replied.

Zedd froze in mid stride, as the name reached his ears. Shota? What could she possibly want with him? "What do you want with me?" he asked.

… _Not you… Richard… _the wind responded.

Richard? Bags! This was not good. Zedd would rather loose to Darken Rahl, than let Richard fall into the clutches of a woman with Shota's capabilities. He was just about to turn around and return to the camp when the wind brought more of Shota's words to his ears.

… _You cannot save him, Zedd. His destiny's path is already laid out before him. One way or another his actions will bring him to me…_

"The future isn't written in stone, Shota," Zedd spoke into the night. "You of all people know this."

He didn't receive a full response this time. Instead, two words reached his ears, which chilled him to the core.

… _Must die…_

And then the wind died completely. Zedd knew that there was no chance of Shota getting her hands on Richard back at the camp; not with the creature he had sent back to protect them. He knew they had time, but not a lot of it.

Zedd sighed and spread his arms in the middle of the pathway. The leaves began to shiver, the pebbles on the ground began to shake slightly, and Zedd became completely still. An eerie sound began to issue forth from Zedd, an unholy wail that sounded like bones being broken, and the agonizing screams of pain. Two silver tendrils shot out of his body, and began circling around him at an incredible speed until they began to solidify in front of Zedd's eyes.

Floating before him were two semi-transparent figures. One was a woman, who was very pretty, with blue eyes, brown hair and a long flowing robe, and the other was a man, with curly back locks, green eyes, and the same robe as his female counterpart. Zedd and the two spectres stared at each other for a long moment until the female spoke, in a voice that sounded like crystal.

"What is it, my son?"

"Mother," Zedd replied. "I am deeply troubled… Shota…"

"Is after Richard," his father replied. "We know of this Zedd. Much can go wrong if Richard falls into the clutches of the Witch-woman".

"I know; but what am I supposed to do?"

"We cannot tell you," his mother replied. "The veil of the underworld keeps the future hidden from us. You must follow your instincts".

"But beware," his father warned. "The Mother Confessor poises a larger threat to Richard than the Witch-Woman. She still has yet to tell him of what she is".

"She will do it in her own time," Zedd replied. "She doesn't want to hurt him".

His mother stared at him with misty eyes. "By withholding the truth from Richard, she might hurt him even more. What if he falls in love with her before she reveals her secret?"

"She won't let that happen," Zedd said defiantly.

"You take a great risk in thinking so, my son," his father said. "Kahlan would sooner turn her powers on herself, if it meant not risking her friendship with Richard. He is the first friend she has had in a long time".

"She will tell him, I am sure of it," Zedd replied. "But how am I to aid Richard in stopping Darken Rahl?"

His parent's figures were beginning to waver.

"That is the wrong question to ask," his father said. "Ask another".

Zedd paused. "Does Rahl have all three Boxes of Orden?"

"No," his mother whispered. "He only has two".

"That is a very dangerous game," Zedd replied. "He must know the repercussions if he doesn't open all three boxes by winter."

"He knows of the consequences," his father replied. "He is very confident in his mission".

"It is his confidence that makes him dangerous," his mother warned. "Do not underestimate him".

"How is Richard supposed to stop Rahl? The sword alone cannot destroy him, and that's all I've given him"

"Richard has knowledge. Richard has secrets. Only he will know how to defeat Rahl," his father said. "We must go now; the Keeper is drawing us back into the veil of the underworld".

"No!" Zedd shouted. "I have more questions! How will Richard defeat Rahl?"

"We have already answered that question," his mother said. "But do not ask him, for he will not reveal his secrets to you…"

"But…"

"Be patient, my son," his mother said. "You are wise. You will show Richard the way through his ordeal… We are leaving… _Zedd… you're father and I love you very… much_".

And the two spectres faded away into nothing. Zedd wiped a tear that was sliding down his cheek. He smoothed out his robes and began walking back towards the camp.

Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander, the Great and Honourable Wizard, arrived back at the camp, and sat down on the nearest rock to think.

"Bags!" the wizard swore. "Nothing is ever easy".


	2. The Glass Garden

The candles flickered in the hallway, casting spindly shadows to dance hypnotically on the walls. The hollow, yet familiar sounds of footsteps echoed down the deserted corridor as the man they belonged to made the long journey down to the Glass Garden. The walk was long; fifteen-minutes from the man's rest chambers to the Gardens; but always he walked there without question, for the punishment of not appearing when summoned was a fate the man tried not to contemplate.

This time, the summons had come urgently in the unsuspecting form of a kitchen boy. There had been a knock on his chamber door, and the man answered. The young boy had explained that the Master had sent an urgent summons for him to make an appearance in the Glass Garden. He also explained that the master had sent a message for him, and handed it over. The man opened the waxed seal and read the six words written on the parchment in slanted handwriting:

_A gift for you, my friend._

The man knew exactly what this meant. The Master was always generous in providing him with gifts for his devout services. A cruel smile flashed across his features, but was gone in an instant. The kitchen boy who had delivered the letter and summons, shifted nervously from foot to foot, shaking the man from his reverie. He looked down at the boy and smiled. The boy smiled nervously back, and began grinding his foot against the stone floor. The man smiled wider and knelt down so he could look into the young boy's eyes.

"What's your name, boy?" the man asked in a pleasant voice.

The boy looked back into man's eyes, unsure of how to proceed. "My… my name is… Ev… Evan, Sir".

"_Evan"_, the man let the name roll over his tongue. He reached out and began to run his fingers through the boy's golden locks. "Do you have a family, Evan?" the man asked.

"My father died, Sir," Evan replied, as the man's hands got lost in his silky waves, "during the war. My sister is a servant-maid in the palace. My mother, Sir, is also dead. My sister is the only one left of my family". A solitary tear escaped his eye, and rolled silently down his cheek.

The man leaned even closer to Evan until their noses were almost touching. He gazed deeply into the boy's eyes, and saw the sadness, the longing, and the fear, and it was almost too much for him to bear. Evan's scent was invading his senses and making him dizzy.

"May I go, Sir?" Even asked, shedding more tears.

"No, Evan, you may not". The fear became more pronounced in Evan's eyes. He had heard the stories, of course, everyone in the palace had. He was notorious for it. The man leaned even closer until his lips were just inches away from Evan's. "You don't only have you sister, Evan," the man said, "you have _me _was well".

The boy began to shake uncontrollably.

"Shhh," the man whispered, as he removed his fingers from the soft curls and began to trace the shape of Evan's jaw line.

"_Please," _Evan sobbed. _"Please… please don't!"_

"Oh, I'm sorry," the man replied, "you we hand picked for me by the Master".

"No, no, no, no, no, no, _please… my family…_"

"You _have _no family," the man whispered. "Your sister won't even notice you're missing in a place as big as this".

"_Please… please!"_

"But don't worry, Evan… _I love you…_"

And with that, the man wrapped both hands around the young boy's neck and gave it a hard twist. There was a sickening crack as the man broke the boy's neck; instantly removing life from the 12-year-old body. It was better than he had imagined. The way the boy's head now rolled around at awkward angles in his hands, and the way he had pleaded for his pathetic life. The Master was very thoughtful. And then the summons came back into his mind with urgency. The Master had praised his service with a young virgin-boy but had also sent summons. The man picked his enormous frame up off the ground, and set off down the hallway, leaving the broken body of the kitchen boy in a haphazard position in his doorway, blood trickling slowly out of the corner of its mouth.

Even now, as he walked down another hallway towards the Glass Garden, the memory made him smile. Children were so easily broken; they were so easy to hold power over. The Master knew that children were his weak spot; especially the young boys. His footsteps continued to echo off the stone floors. He was so wrapped up in his memories, that he almost didn't notice the small movement to the right of him in a dark alcove.

He spun, and reached out into the dark, his hand wrapping around something small and warm. He jerked his arm out, and threw whatever it was across the hall. It hit the opposite wall with a sickening thud, and crumpled to the floor. The large man walked across the hall and stood over what he realized was a young girl. She wasn't any older than thirteen. She groaned, and shook her head slightly, the impact from the wall beginning to fade. Unlike the kitchen boy (with whom he and been gentle with), he bent over and gripped the girl by the throat, picked her up the floor and slammed her again into the marble wall.

"Who are you?" the man asked in a voice that was laced with menace.

"J-Jessica!" the girl cried out in pain.

"Why aren't you at devotionals?"

"Please! I was just on my way!"

The man looked her over. She was wearing a plain grey dress, a symbol of her slavery within the palace. The Half-Bell sounded at that moment, signalling that the second round of devotions had begun. It was mandated by law within the palace that every servant no matter what they were doing, was to drop it and proceed to the Amber Chamber to participate in the devotionals to the Master, and this slave-girl was no different. He also noted that she was concealing something in her right hand. Her fingers were clasped tight around whatever it was.

"Show me what's in your hand, or I'll cut off your fingers one by one".

"Please, it's nothing…"

"Show me!" the man roared, twisting her wrist, and breaking it in one swift motion. The girl screamed out in pain, and released the object she had been holding. A single glass rose petal fell to the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces. The man stared at his reflection in the fractured glass. There was only one place in the palace where the petal could have come from. His eyes returned to the girl that he still had pinned up against the wall.

"You know the penalty for removing anything from the Glass Garden…" he relinquished his grip around the girl's throat and she slumped to the floor, crying silently and cradling her shattered wrist. "We'll see what the master has to say about this", the man said, and grabbed the girl by the back of her garment, and began dragging her along the floor, towards what waited in the Glass Garden.

It was only five minutes more to the Glass Garden and the man and girl reached it without incident. They came to a halt in front of a large set of double doors that were carved out of ivory. Upon it, were intricate designs of flowers, rolling landscapes, and violent images of battles long past. It was the Masters favourite room in the palace. The man hoisted the young girl to her feet, and brushed her off. He reached up and knocked twice on the door.

"Enter," a voice said from within.

The man pushed the two ivory doors open, and pushed the young girl forward into the cavernous room.

Water fell with delicate sounds from a statues mouth in the far left corner of the room. Glass flowers of every kind were scattered throughout the room, forming intricate and delicate designs. On the ceiling, was a mosaic of flowers portraying the Master standing in front of a crowd of thousands preaching, an image of the master and his father decorated the right wall. The left wall was devoid of any glass flowers, for the reason that the images that would eventually be there had not happened as of yet. The master was very particular about the glass flowers, and not every event that the Master was involved in earned a sacred spot in the Glass Garden. It was a sacred place. In the middle of this vast space, there knelt a man in white robes, who without looking up, spoke to the man who had entered the room.

"Good evening, Demmin".

"Father Rahl," Demmin Nass replied.

"Did you enjoy my gift?"

"Yes, thank you, Father Rahl," Demmin replied.

Father Rahl did not reply, and Demmin Nass knew it was better not to interrupt him. He waited patiently for Father Rahl to speak again.

"I am in need of assistance," Father Rahl said, after a few moments of silence.

"I would be honour –" Demmin began before being cut off.

"Not you," Father Rahl snapped. "Bring the girl here".

Without questioning the reasoning of Father Rahl, Demmin pushed the girl along into the very center of the room, where Rahl was kneeling in front of an ivory basin. The girl came to a halt, and stood there shivering. Eventually, Father Rahl turned around from the basin and gazed at her.

He had a handsome, angular face, with piercing blue eyes. His lips were thin, and his skin was pale; and yet for such a small man, he seemed to have an enormous presence that filled up the entire room. He smiled at the girl, showing a row of straight, even teeth.

"Hello, my child," he said, "what is your name?"

"My name is Jessica, Father Rahl," the girl replied.

"Jessica? That is a pretty name. Did your mother give it to you?"

"Yes," the girl replied.

"Well," Father Rahl said, "It is a lovely name". He paused for a moment. "Jessica, if you help me, I will overlook the fact that you're not at devotionals and that you removed a glass petal from this room. Will you help me?"

From where Demmin Nass was standing, he could see that the trap had been set; all that was left was for this girl to walk into it. Father Rahl always had a way of controlling children. He returned his attention to the scene playing out before him.

"Yes, Father Rahl, I will help you".

"Good," Father Rahl replied, "I am glad. Now, Jessica, tell me, have you heard of something called anthropomancy?"

Jessica shook her head "no".

"It is a method of divination by the reading of human entrails of dead of dying men or women, often virgin female children, through sacrifice…" the girl's eyes grew wide with fear, "And you, my child, have the privilege of aiding me. There was a terrible silence as Rahl let his words sink in. "Demmin," he said, "restrain her and place her on the alter".

Demmin stepped forward and picked up the girl, who began to struggle against his chest, kicking and screaming for her parents. He carried her across the room, her terrified eyes reflected back to him in all of the glass flowers. He approached the alter, a table made of gold and silver, with straps of leather which were used to restrain the sacrifices from fighting back as Father Rahl preformed the anthropomancy. It was a sight that Demmin Nass could watch again and again. He walked up the sixteen steps to the alter and placed the girl down and strapped her in, all the while the girl screamed and thrashed and kicked, trying to escape; but it was no use. Demmin was twice her size and twice as strong.

Throughout all of the commotion, Father Rahl remained calm, kneeling in the center of the room. Eventually, he got up off the ground and approached the alter. His 5' 11" frame walking with a slow deliberate pace, his straight, shoulder-length hair swaying back and forth with the movement. His white robe, which almost touched the floor shifted with his movements, the curved knife in its gold scabbard embossed with symbols to warn the spirits to give way, glinted brightly on his hip.

Demmin Nass stood back respectfully as Father Rahl reached the top of the steps. He walked towards the young girl tied down on the alter, and ran a hand lovingly through her hair. Father Rahl muttered a few incantations, and the girl grew silent. Father Rahl removed the curved knife from his belt, and slowly raised it above his head. He held it there for a long moment, and then swiftly, and silently, brought it down in an arc and plunged it into the girl's midsection. The girl's eyes rolled into the back of her head, screamed at the unbearable pain, as Father Rahl opened her up and spilled her insides onto the altar. Eventually, the girl's agonizing screams subsided and the room was replaced with a think blanket of silence.

He picked up the nearest organ and ran his fingers over it, with his eyes closed. Demmin Nass, the entire time remained silent. Eventually, after studying all of the internal organs, Rahl spoke.

"Demmin, I need you to go to Kalabra. The Seeker and Mother Confessor will be passing through there in a few days time. The Mother Confessor will be weak, and the Seeker will not stop you from taking her. Bring her here…"

"Father Rahl, permission to speak?"

"Demmin, my old friend, you don't need my permission to speak".

"All of the other Confessors are dead," Demmin said. "The Mother Confessor doesn't pose any threat to us".

"What you say is true," Rahl replied. "You will not be bringing her here for us to kill".

"What other purpose would she serve, if not to kill her?" Demmin asked.

Father Rahl was not a patient man, but he always made an except for Demmin Nass.

"She will bear me a Confessor Son. An heir to my throne; and then, my good friend, we may dispense of her."

"I will leave for Kalabra immediately," Demmin said. He saluted, and turned to leave.

"See that you do, Demmin," Father Rahl replied. "Send for me when you return".

"I will, Father Rahl," Demmin Nass replied, and walked out of the ivory doors.

Darken Rahl wiped his hands of the blood and walked back to the center of the Glass Garden and dropped back into his original kneeling position. He was confident that his plan for finding the last Box of Orden would succeed. The Seeker was just a minor annoyance in his plan.

But the seasons were passing. Winter was coming.


End file.
